Say You're Sorry
by Windturf
Summary: A small squabble in OR causes Frank to almost go over the edge. Can be read as pre-slash.


Disclaimer: I don't own M*A*S*H.

Please excuse any OCCness. This can be read as Pre-slash.

"You are both idiots," Frank said to Hawkeye and Trapper.

"Haven't you looked in a mirror lately, have you Ferret Face?" Trapper asked him. He had a smug grin on his face.

"He won't be using Hotlips' for a while," Hawkeye added.

It was lunchtime. Frank and Margaret had had an argument in OR that morning. Margaret sat at the nurses' table, while Frank sat at a table with Colonel Blake, Father Mulcahy, Radar, and of course, Hawkeye and Trapper. Hawkeye and Trapper were taunting Frank about what had happened earlier.

Frank glared at them as he got up from the table. He threw out what was left of what was considered food and walked out of the Mess Tent. Trapper and Hawkeye took that as a victory and grinned at each other.

'_Why is it always me?_' Frank asked himself silently as he walked to the Swamp. '_I don't understand it. I get in a little fight in surgery over which size clamp to use and everyone has to hate me. The young man I was working on was fine. Unlike Hawkeye's patient…_'

Frank opened the door to the Swamp. He closed the blinds and kneeled by his bed, trying to find something.

'_I'm useless to everyone,' _He thought.

He took out a small handgun from underneath his cot. It was hidden behind some books and a few other things. They didn't exactly allow handguns in officer's quarters. '_It's for protection though," Frank thought, "Snipers are everywhere."_

Frank turned the gun over in his hand in few times, thinking over what he was about to do.

'_No one will care. Not even Margaret.'_

Frank slowly raised the gun to his head. His hand shook slightly.

Trapper walked in suddenly.

"Frank, your needed in post- Oh my god, Frank, what are you doing?" Trapper said, shocked. He knew that Frank could get upset and go off to sulk when they made fun of him, but never to this point.

"Go away McIntyre. I don't need you right now," Frank tried to shoo him away, even though he knew it was useless to ask him to leave.

"No, Frank. I'm not going to let you do what you're about to do," Trapper was slowly moving over to him.

"What do _you_ care, McIntyre? You won't miss me," Frank told him.

"Frank, do you really want to do this? Over a stupid fight?" Trapper asked him. _'This doesn't make sense,' _Trapper thought.

Trapper made it to him and took the gun out of Frank's hand. He threw the gun away from them. It hit the ground with a small 'thud'.

Frank sighed audibly. "McIntyre, why do you and Pierce have to do this?" Frank asked.

"Do what?" Trapper asked him; although he had a feeling he knew the answer. He sat down next to Frank on the cot.

"Every day, you two," Frank paused trying to find the right word, "Pick on me."

"Because…" Trapper trailed off. '_Why do we make fun of him?'_' Trapper thought. Then the word began spilling out. "Frank, you act like you're everything. You deny that you and Margaret are seeing each other, when it's obvious that you are. And, you treat anyone with a lower rank than you like dirt," Trapper told him.

Frank looked at Trapper. "I know that," Frank said. He knew his own answer didn't really make sense.

Trapper sighed. "Why'd you try to do it?" He asked him.

Frank looked away. "I don't know. Maybe because I felt needed some compassion. Or it would make you and Pierce show some other emotion than hate for me," Frank said.

"Frank, we don't hate you. We make fun of you, sure. But we don't hate you," Trapper told him. What he said was sincere. Trapper had no idea that this was how Frank felt.

"It's always me you laugh at. Always me you prank," Frank said sadly.

'_Does he really think that?_'' Trapper asked himself. "Well, it's not like we're gonna prank Dago or Henry," Trapper said, almost jokingly.

"Why me, then?" Frank inquired.

"You don't usually get upset enough to write a report," Trapper replied. Frank and Margaret did try to write a report once, but they never sent it in.

"Maybe I-" There was a knock at the door.

"Trapper, Frank, we need you in post-op," Hawkeye said in a sing-song voice.

"We'll be there in a second," Trapper replied.

"You two _better_ be in post-op in a second," Hawkeye told them.

Trapper turned back to Frank. "Don't do that again, okay?" Trapper said quietly

Frank nodded. His eyes had unshed tears. He quickly wiped them away.

"Can you do something for me, Trapper?" Frank asked.

"What?" Trapper replied.

"Can you say you're sorry?"

Trapper smiled. "I'm sorry, Frank."

Frank smiled back at him. "Thank you."

They both got up and headed to post-op.

The next day, Frank found oatmeal in his boot.

Please R & R


End file.
